He is known in the Wild as Strider
by Ranger's Scop
Summary: Legolas, after a long search, finds the elusive Strider among the Rangers of the North. But soon after he arrives, the Elf Prince finds himself mixed up in mysterious murders in the Ranger camps. Little does the Rangers know that the murderer, The Bloody Handed, is in the camps, and he has been hired to take out all the Ranger leaders. Can Strider and Legolas destroy this threat?
1. Introduction

"He is known in the Wild as Strider."

Thranduil

Okay, my newest fanfic has an interesting twist. I know some people ask "Why is Thranduil talking about Aragorn? He's 10! No one should know about Strider." Well good question…and I have an answer: "In Fellowship of the Ring (book) there is a 17 year gap between Bilbo's birthday party and when Frodo leaves the Shire. In FotR (movie) there is no apparent 17 year gap between these two events. Thus in the movies, Aragorn would be 27 during the time of the Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. Now my fanfic will cross BotFA (movie) and LotR (book) so that Legolas will search for Strider, but Aragorn will be 10 years old. Want to know how this will work? Then read on!

Sincerely,

Ranger's Scop


	2. Prologue

**Thanks to my beta reader BlueberryMuffins76! This fanfic is dedicated to all my Legolas loving friends!**

Prologue

" _Go North. Find the Dunedain; there is a young ranger among them; you should meet him. His father, Arathorn, was a good man. His son may grow to be a great one."_

" _What is his name?"_

" _He is known in the Wild as Strider. His true name, you must discover for yourself."_

Find the Dunedain. A simple matter really, there were several Dunedain villages scattered in the North. However, you only had to search the whole of Arnor and Eriador to find at least a trace of the Rangers in some burning village. Even then it might be a broken blade or a forgotten knife in an orc body. He had spent nine months searching the Wild lands and had had no luck finding this Strider person. There were some who knew the name yet didn't know where he was. He had also learned that Strider was not Arathorn's true son, but he was adopted after an orc attack. Strider's father had died protecting Arathorn, who in turn protected the family.

The stench of burning orc flesh filled Legolas' nostrils as he rummaged through the ashes. The villagers stared warily at the elf as he skipped lightly through the rubble. Bending down, the Elven Prince picked up a bloody piece of cloth. Unlike the villager's drab grey and white clothing, this rag was a dark green. The blood was fresh.

Excited, he approached a frightened young woman who clutched two children at her side.

"When did they leave?"

"Two hours ago," she said, her voice quaking. "They had wounded so they will move slower than usual. They went west."

" _Hannon le_ ," he thanked her.

He tucked the rag into a pouch that hung on his belt and ran off toward the setting sun. Night draped the land like a thick blanket and the stars were veiled by shadowy clouds, but this didn't hinder the elf, although the starless night was slightly depressing.

He entered a dense grove of brush that led into a small wood. The shadows danced in and around the trees as the moon appeared and disappeared amongst the clouds. Legolas cursed as his foot slipped into an unseen hole covered by a pile of dry leaves. The noise sounded harsh and loud in his ears though the noise was slight and faint. Treading lighter and more cautiously, the elven prince noticed more holes, masked by leaves and thin strips of turf. This was a series of traps. Even more alert now, he watched for low branches and sticks scattered around the ground. His heart rattled in his chest; perhaps he had found a Ranger camp! A crackle caught his attention and his head shot up to the canopy of leaves above. With a flapping and hooting an owl swooshed over his head and settled on a branch ahead of the Elf.

"Hello there, _mellon_ ," Legolas crooned softly. "You haven't seen any Rangers about have you?"

The owl cocked his head and hooted before flying off. Legolas sighed and took advantage of the moon, which had just reappeared, to scan his surroundings. It was then he caught a glimpse of metal flashing. Cautiously, he whipped his bow out and drew an arrow back skillfully. He started to back up but stopped as he felt something sharp press into his back.

"I would drop the bow if I were you," a low voice warned.

Three blades surrounded him, one pointing at his chest and the other two scratching against his neck. He heard bow strings strain as they were pulled back and the low breathing of several men. A fool! That is what he was; to let himself walk into a trap. The Mirkwood bow clattered to the ground.

"Bind him," came the sharp order.


	3. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The dark cloth was ripped off his head and the bright blaze of the fire nearly blinded Legolas. Rapidly blinking to adjust his eyes to the light, he could discern cloaked figures drifting around the edge of the fire. Three prone men lay on the south side of the fire, another man kneeling beside them with a heavy bag. These were the wounded and the camp Healer, Legolas presumed. The elf prince jumped as an unseen figure emerged from the grass beside him. The Dunedain had become experts on stealth, even rivaling the Elves.

"What is your business with the Rangers?" a gruff voice queried from behind the dark green hood. "Why do you plague our paths?"

"Why do you ask?" Legolas huffed.

"Because you were caught spying on a Ranger camp. No more questions. Just answers. Why are you following us?"

"I am looking for the one they call Strider," Legolas answered plainly. "I'm not a spy."

He tested the cords that bound him to a straight young sapling; unfortunately, they were extremely tight. Nevertheless, he had been in worse situations; theses ropes were nothing.

"Why do you seek him?"

The speaker moved closer to the fire, the red light glancing off the naked steel of an unsheathed blade. Dark eyes flashed from beneath the speaker's hood and his footsteps were barely audible.

"I wish to become his friend and ally," Legolas replied.

The man snorted and advanced a step while the Elf fought with a well-tied knot.

"I wish you the best of luck then…" the man trailed off.

"Legolas Thranduilion," the Elf provided his name.

"…Thranduilion. Strider has no friends and he considers allies worth his time if he sees fit. Well, you are no threat to the camp. My name is Glen Farethson."

The man sheathed his sword and drew a dagger from his belt. He bent over to slice the ropes, only to find them on the ground and the Elf's hands free. Glen chuckled and returned to a standing position, staring bemused at Legolas.

"Be glad you are one of the Elder, else you would have found this dagger in your ribcage," Glen said, throwing back his hood.

Legolas couldn't help but stare; he had expected a man in his latter years, but instead he found a clean-shaven youth, whose eyes sparkled with merriment. _Idiot_ , Legolas chided himself, _the Dunedain have an extended life span. This child could be 30 or 40 years of age!_

"Surprised, eh? Captain thinks I make a good interrogator, despite my age…something to do with being intimidating," Glen laughed.

Legolas replied with a faint smile, he liked this youth. A bare-headed, middle-aged man approached them, his sword hilt swinging against his worn leather boots. He motioned to Glen, who immediately ran over to him. The Elf could clearly hear their hushed talked and took the time to study his surroundings better.

"I assume he is perfectly safe," the man whispered.

"Yes sir…" Glen answered in the same quiet voice.

The talk faded as the men moved away and closer to other conversations so that the words blurred and Legolas could not decipher them. He could make out sentries posted at the outskirts of the camp, walking in time with the snapping of sparks. There was a hastily assembled pen filled with shaggy horses that snorted expectantly at their feeder.

"Good," the man drawled.

The two approached him again, and the Elf jumped up, hastily rubbing his slightly chafed wrists.

"I am Legolas, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood," the elven prince introduced himself.

"Captain Jarrod," the elder man returned the formality. "Glen, back to your post."

The young man nodded and disappeared into the darkness beyond the fire.

"I hear you want to meet Strider. That's good; he needs a companion, especially after what happened to his father."

"His father?" Legolas asked. "You mean the one named Arathorn?"

"Yes he died in an orc skirmish eight years ago," Captain Jarrod informed. "Strider has but altogether secluded himself…only visiting Imladris once in a while. He also visits our companies to check for order and balance. Are you sure you want to be his friend?"

"Yes," Legolas said hesitantly. "Why do you ask? Is he a hard person to like?"

"Now I wouldn't say that…" Captain Jarrod explained, "it just takes a good, persistent person to like him."

"I think I can handle it," Legolas stated.

"Don't _think_ …know," Captain Jarrod hammered.

"I can be his friend," Legolas confirmed.

"Good. The luck of the Valar is with you; we meet up with him in a week for inspection. Breakfast is at dawn. Don't sleep late, Elf Prince, or the food will be all gone," Captain Jarrod instructed.

Legolas nodded and curled up in his cloak, drifting off into the world of dreams that only the Elder are blessed to walk in.

Legolas woke with a start as a hard object rammed into his side.

"What?" he grunted annoyed.

"Up, Elf Prince!" Captain Jarrod ordered, "breakfast is almost gone, as is the morning."

Legolas opened his eyes, it was dark still! There was barely a thread of grey near the horizon.

"You call this morning," he groaned, sitting up.

"No, I call this _late_ morning. Consider yourself lucky; I just woke you up," Captain Jarrod barked.

So that was what he called that kick. Legolas watched the Captain saunter away. He pulled his close-fitting boots over his aching feet, last night's memories replaying in his fogged brain. He stumbled over to the cook and received the last of a thick gruel. The Elf sat down beside Glen, the only familiar face in the camp besides the Captain.

"Don't let him get to you," Glen chewed. "He's hard on everyone, especially new members. It's hard-being a Ranger-you have to follow orders and think quickly for yourself and others at the same time. Not to mention trying to avoid getting stuck by a snaga. Captain has to be hard; it reduces casualties when you keep things strict and orderly."

"Makes sense," Legolas lied, remembering not too fondly the harsh way his father kept the Woodland Realm.

"Move out!" Captain Jarrod shouted.

"Speaking of the Balrog," Glen grumbled, snatching his last bite.

The young Ranger jumped up and dumped his bowl into the cook's wash pot. Legolas looked dejectedly at the half full bowl before dumping it into the pot. Glen approached the Elf and handed him the reins to a shaggy, long-eared horse.

"This is Railious. He lost his first master a few weeks ago. I'm sure he will like you," Glen informed.

Legolas reached out hesitantly and rubbed the dark forelock; the horse snorted and pushed his head closer.

"See, told you," Glen pointed out.

"Mount up!" Captain Jarrod ordered.

Legolas placed his pack on Railious' back, then vaulted in front of it. The camp was soon deserted; no trace of the Rangers was left. They rode silently for a while, taking the journey slowly for the three wounded. A week passed, and they rode into the hilly country of Eriador. Legolas urged his horse up beside Glen.

"Who is the one that rides with his black hood pulled over his face?" the Elven Prince asked Glen.

"Oh him," Glen smiled, "his name is Baroth, he's new and kind of shy."

"Then why is he staring at us now?" Legolas queried.

"I don't know," Glen hesitated.

* * *

"Kill their leaders, and anyone who gets in your way. We must take the Dunedain out, one by one," a shadowy voice instructed.

"Yes sir," a low voice said. "The money?"

The black hooded figure growled and tossed a green-hooded man a bag that clinked. The man counted the coins carefully while keeping an eye on the shadowy hirer.

"Good," the man said.

"Don't fail us, Bloody-Handed," the voice spoke again.

"I won't; you know that," the man answered.

* * *

The man started from the flashback and felt the coins hidden in his saddle pack. He glanced at the Elf riding up ahead and scowled; the Elf would get in the way he was sure. The Bloody Handed felt for his hidden dagger in his vest; soon very soon.

"Greetings Strider," Captain Jarrod called.

Legolas perked up as he peered ahead; a man riding a sturdy brown horse cantered up. The wind blew his dark brown hair out of his youthful eyes. His face was solemn and showed traces of grief; Legolas urged his forward to meet his future friend.


	4. Chapter 2

**New chapter! Thank you coolprettyangel2006 for favoriting this! Please leave a review even if its two or three words!**

Chapter Two

"Jarrod," Strider acknowledged, reining in his horse.

"How does young Captain Darson fare?" Captain Jarrod inquired.

"He is fine…now," Strider sighed.

Legolas pulled Railious up beside Jarrod's own horse. Strider's head snapped towards him instantly and Captain Jarrod's face hardened.

"What are you doing, Elf Prince?" Jarrod snapped before Legolas could speak.

"I…" the Elf started.

"Back in line," Captain Jarrod ordered.

Legolas nodded glumly and turned Railious back to his position. Strider watched him leave eyeing the Elf warily.

"You take Elf recruits?" Strider asked.

"No, he found us and joined. Said he was looking for you," Captain Jarrod stated dryly.

"Oh?" Strider replied, a slight hint of suspicion edging his curiosity.

"Yes, Glen says he's fine, but he only found us last night," Captain Jarrod commented, "so we don't know much about him."

"Do you know how long he has been in Eriador?" Strider questioned.

"A couple of months, maybe three by now…why?"

"We can talk later…when we camp."

Captain Jarrod arched his eyebrow but asked nothing else of the quiet Ranger. The patrol continued through the day, scouting usual orc hideouts and helping secure small villages. Arathorn had organized the companies into routine patrols of the Downs before he had died.

Legolas glanced at Strider wonderingly. The young Ranger was not very tall, about 5" 11" and had chin-length brown hair. His posture showed confidence and yet cautiousness and he swayed back and forth. The Elf had only gotten a brief glance at the man's face but he had seen honor and courage as well as something deeper. Something he had felt when his mother had died, grief. Heartbreaking, agonizing grief.

"You okay?" Glen's voice broke through the memory.

"Err…yes," Legolas replied snapping back to the present.

"Okay…" Glen replied, unconvinced.

They rode on in silence, Glen occasionally glancing over at the Elf, whose mood had turned melancholy. The morning passed and the Rangers ate a quick, cold midday meal before returning to their saddles. The afternoon dragged by and Strider rode up and down the lines, inspecting the men. Sometimes he would stop and ask Captain Jarrod questions about the new recruits but most of the time he watched every man in the patrol.

Evening approached and the sky was adorned with robes of red and blue as the sun descended into the west. Inky darkness replaced the brilliant robes and twinkling stars stared down at the group of Rangers setting up tents and building fires.

Legolas piled a bundle of twigs onto the quickly rising flame, which licked at the dry sticks eagerly. He glanced over to the fire where Captain Jarrod and Strider discussed something in low tones, too low for even his Elven ears to pick up.

Strider toyed with a stick as he listened to Jarrod's report. The news he had to share with Jarrod weighed heavily on his mind.

"…and you know the rest," Captain Jarrod finished. "Now what did you want to tell me earlier?"

"You lost your Second in that skirmish a month back didn't you?" Strider asked.

"Yes, I've been training Mikal to take his place," Jarrod informed. "Why?"

"You can't tell the men, but," Strider sighed, "there have been murders in the other Dunedain camps. I want the other patrols to be prepared."

"What?" Captain Jarrod exclaimed, his voice tinged with astonishment.

"Captain Darson was killed last week," Strider related.

Jarrod's face fell, "a pity. Darson was a good man."

"That's not all; Captain Hillman and his second were killed in a skirmish two weeks ago," Strider said. "I think this murderer is taking down the patrols. The only targets are leaders, Captains or their seconds…sometimes a third."

"Why do you think there is a murderer?" Captain Jarrod questioned.

"Captain Darson was found dead in his tent, traces in his ale cup suggested that poison was used. There was no sign of struggle or strangling," Strider notified.

"What can we do to prevent more deaths?" Captain Darson inquired, a worry wrinkle forming in his forehead.

"Keep your eyes on the new recruits. We don't want the murderer sneaking into a camp. Also up your sentries on the perimeters. Don't alert the troops; just tell them there is a large band of orcs abroad," Strider ordered. "I'll try to find this murderer, and take him down."

"Be careful, Strider," Jarrod warned, "this murderer is no orc if he uses poison in that manner."

"Don't worry, Jarrod, I'm young, but not inexperienced," Strider smiled.

"Well," Captain Jarrod groaned as he got up, "I should check on the sentries."

Strider nodded and watched his mentor walk to the edge of camp. Sighing, he also rose and paced through the scattered fires. He stopped in front of a glittering fire where the Ranger Glen and Legolas sat talking in low tones. Shaking his head, he moved away to the edge of camp. At that moment, a sentry appeared followed by a young man leading a horse.

"A messenger from the North Downs!" the sentry shouted.

Men whooped and gathered around the messenger, talking eagerly. Legolas glanced at Glen, whose eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Expecting a letter?" Legolas grinned.

"Aye," Glen piped, "from the fairest maid in all of Middle Earth! Don't tell on me now," Glen concluded with a wink before bounding up to join the throng around the overwhelmed messenger.

Legolas watched, amused, as the mortal's excitement broke the grimness of the patrol. The Elf Prince noticed Baroth, the quiet recruit, accept his letter slowly and move to a fire close to Legolas'. The young ranger opened the letter, taking out a small packet before tossing the rest of the letter into the fire. Baroth glanced up as the parchment turned a bright red, noticing for the first time the observing Elf.

"My father hates my chosen profession," Baroth explained, fingering the packet. "I always burn his tear me down if I read them. My sister keeps me informed on the family doings," he finished, fingering the packet.

Legolas nodded; he could hardly imagine a father writing so negatively to his son. True, his own father was cold at times, but they had agreed to keep their father-son relationship in the confines of their private quarters.

Baroth moved on, disappearing into the shadows and Glen returned, grasping a thin sheet of paper in his hands.

"Well Legolas," he sighed contentedly, "life is good! My sweet Adele has sent me this fine letter of her love, coated with her sweet rosewater perfume!"

"I'll leave you alone to read, lover boy," Legolas laughed.

Rising, the Elf strolled through the fires, humming a starlight song under his breath. The messenger galloped off with a message to the Captain of the second patrol. Legolas hardly jumped when Strider approached.

"So you are Thranduil's son," Strider commented.

"Yes, I am," Legolas answered.

"My father once knew the Elvenking," Strider said softly, "he is a good leader."

Legolas didn't reply, but nodded solemnly.

"I am sorry for your loss," the Elf said suddenly.

Strider felt a lump rise in his throat, he tried not to think of Arathorn, who had quickly become a second father to him. His death had been the second most powerful blow to his short life. Since Gilraen left, he had taken over leadership amongst the Rangers.

"Thank you," Strider breathed.

"How long did you know him?" Legolas questioned.

"Since I was 10; that was 30 years ago now," Strider sighed.

"Do you have any more family?" the Elf continued.

"My mother still lives on Evendim's shores," Strider informed. "I don't have any siblings."

* * *

The messenger stopped his horse and pushed it into the brush alongside the time-worn path. Bending down among the brambles he watched the road carefully. His eyes caught the frog jumping in the dust and the owl swooping down upon its prey, but not the shadow creeping up beside him.

"The poison is in the letter, is it not?" the low voice of the Bloody Handed growled, making the messenger jump.

"Yes sir!" the frightened messenger piped. "You have all that you asked for."

The Bloody Handed smiled and stood up, towering sever inches above the messenger. Carefully, the assassin's gloved fingers curved around his dagger's sheath, but the messenger happened to see the subtle movement. Slowly, the messenger back away, raising his hands defensively.

"I did what you told me to…" the messenger stammered.

"Yes you did," the Bloody Handed purred, "now you are of no use to me."

The messenger's eyes widened as cold steel passed between his ribs and into his heart. Spluttering black blood, the messenger turned his fading eyes on the assassin and glared before collapsing to the ground, convulsing.

"There, little bird, now your swift wings are clipped and your chattering beak is shut forever," the Bloody Handed laughed.

The assassin wiped his blade clean on the dead messenger's tunic before disappearing into the shadows. One deed was finished, another had yet to come.

* * *

Strider stopped. He was talking more about himself than he had since Arathorn had died. He could feel his heart opening to this Woodland Elf. They had talked long into the night, even after the camp retired for the night, stopping only for a minute so Strider could order Glen to stand watch at Captain Jarrod's tent.

Strider smiled as Legolas described a party suddenly broken by the entrance of a large company of spiders.

"I fear I need to sleep now," Strider yawned.

"I will walk with you," Legolas offered getting up.

They walked silently back through the camp, the fires were fading to low glimmers, but one fire provided enough light to illuminate the slumped over form of Glen.

"He's asleep," Strider grumbled, diverting from his path to wake the sleeping guard.

Legolas watched as Strider shook Glen several times to wake the sleeping guard, but it was to no avail. The Elf's keen glance found a wooden cup lying on its side, its contents spilt upon the ground. Bending over, Legolas picked the cup up and ran his finger around its bottom where a faint white clump lay. Sniffing it, he turned to Strider and showed him what he had found.

"Sleeping dust," Strider said slowly. "Oh no…"

Swiftly, Strider threw back the tent flap then staggered backwards in shock. Captain Jarrod lay on the ground, eyes wide open and lifeless. A cup sat a few inches from his sprawled hand, now a deadly shade of white. Blood trickled down from his pallid lips and onto the ground.

"He's…dead…" Legolas stammered, his eyes filled with horror.

 **Uh oh, the Bloody Handed strikes again! Who is he?**


	5. Chapter 3

**Thank you TJTwigg, Skylark22155, Picu, and Neril for following me! Special thanks to Neril who favorited and posted a review!**

 **I love reviews!** (hint hint)

Chapter 3:

"Glen! Glen, wake up! Glen!" Strider shouted in the man's ear.

Life stirred in the camp and men stumbled out of tents or from underneath blankets. Legolas grabbed a mug of soapy water from the cook's wash pot and flung it at the Ranger's face. Glen spluttered and blinked groggily, jumping up when he saw Strider clearly, only to lurch heavily to one side. A crowd started to gather around the furious Strider and the cross-eyed young Ranger.

"What happened?" Glen slurred his words, feeling his head with one hand.

"You need to tell me that," Strider barked.

"Huh?" Glen groaned.

"Captain Jarrod is dead," Strider spat, "you were supposed to stand guard. What happened?"

"Captain…dead…I don't know…" Glen forced the words out, "I can't remember…"

"Remember!" Strider shouted.

Glen winced and turned his eyes thoughtfully towards the ground. The crowd had grown larger and the men whispered, shocked at their Captain's death.

"I was standing here…someone brought the Captain a drink…offered me a drink as well…" Glen struggled.

"Who?" Strider questioned.

"I don't know sir," Glen moaned, "I can't remember…I'm sorry, sir."

Legolas pitied the young Ranger, whose face was contorted with grief at the news of his beloved Captain's death. Strider sighed and released his iron-like grip on Glen's shoulder.

"Can you remember anything else?" Strider queried wearily.

"Only taking a drink," Glen sniffed, "I'm sorry sir…I failed."

"Don't beat yourself up about it…you were drugged…I'm the one to blame," Strider said. "I should have been more vigilant."

"What's going on?" a veteran ranger inquired. "Who killed our Captain?"

"We don't know yet," Strider explained. "But I do know that Jarrod's death is one of many. We have a murderer on the loose. He is targeting the commanders of our patrols and taking down leadership. Also scouts have reported large bands of orcs massing in the South. I have suspicion that we are about to be dealt a heavy blow. Be prepared for anything men. Remember, you are the Dunedain of the North!"

The men cheered as Strider rallied the hope in their hearts against the ever present darkness. Legolas smiled and raised his own voice in the cheer. Even Glen whooped, despite his massive headache. The men busied themselves around the camp, even though it was still night. Strider took Mikel, Jarrod's Second-in-training, aside and instructed him on how to keep the camp safe. Afterwards Strider approached Legolas, who sat secluded by Jarrod's tent.

"They will bury him in the morning," Strider commented. "I want you and Baroth to accompany me on a little trip."

"Where?" Legolas asked.

"To Rivendell," Strider smiled.

"Rivendell!" Legolas exclaimed, jumping up, "but why?"

"I need to know the nature of this poison and seek the council of Lord Elrond concerning this matter," Strider answered, walking away.

Legolas followed eagerly, forgetting for a moment the shock and pain from the murder. He found it difficult to keep up with Strider's long quick steps, after which Strider was justly named. Just to think of Rivendell sent his head spinning. He was going to the paradise of Imladris! Even his father admired the lush gardens of Rivendell. Excitedly, the Elf Prince sped off to the horse pen. Railious nickered as Legolas approached, nuzzling the Prince's pockets for treats. Legolas laughed and pulled out a piece of hearth cake, which he had saved for his new friend. Already a bond had formed between the two, the speed of their friendship increased by Railious' longing for a master. Baroth was already there, saddling his own shaggy mare.

"Have you been to Rivendell before?" Legolas asked, hoping to start a conversation with the quiet Ranger.

"No, it is a privilege denied to many," Baroth said shortly.

"Aye," Legolas commented, "but we get to be one of the few."

"Yes," Baroth answered.

"Are you not excited?" the Elf Prince questioned.

"I suppose I am," the shy recruit replied, "but in my own way. Rangers are not known for showing emotions."

Legolas lapsed into silence and tightened Railious' saddle girth. Baroth pulled his mare out of the pen and went to meet with Strider. The Elf Prince stroked his horse's head, then led Railious towards Strider and Baroth.

"Good," Strider said, "we will pay our final respects to the Captain, and then we head out."

The burial was short; Jarrod's body was lowered into the ground and swords were raised in a salute. Jarrod's weapons had been laid beside him except for a dagger, whose blade had been broken and buried at the head of the grave. Now only orcs or wild animals would dare disturb the grave, for the dagger was the mark of a soldier.

Strider motioned to his two companions and they parted from the patrol on a southeasterly course. Hours faded into days, and days into weeks and the trio rode down past the ruins of Fornost. Legolas marveled at the stately chunks of stone scattered around the plain covered in moss and vines. However, a lingering darkness blanketed the ruin, making the Elf Prince shudder. Somehow he had the feeling that the ghosts of those who had died in its defense still lingered there in utter torment.

Legolas had taken advantage of the strenuous journey to make friends with his companions. Baroth had not been open to Legolas' conversations, but Strider would discuss several things of importance with him. One day, his father's words popped into the Elf Prince's mind and he urged Railious up beside Strider.

"What is your given name?" Legolas asked.

"Don't you like Strider?" the Ranger queried playfully.

"Surely it is not your given name…it is so…" Legolas searched for the right word, "…rough."

Strider laughed," Well you will have to find my name out for yourself."

"My father said the same thing," Legolas grumbled.

"A wise man, your father," Strider smiled. "We should meet one day."

"Aye," Legolas sighed.

They continued to the Greensmarch and traveled down the road until they reached the Great East Road, where they turned.. A month after they had begun their journey, the three companions reached the hidden refuge of Rivendell. Before they entered, Strider lectured his two followers on Imladris manners and the importance of keeping the sacred realm secret. Afterwards, they entered the narrow pass that only two men could walk abreast in, and even then with much difficulty, trying not to fall. Legolas wondered at the serene peace and ethereal beauty of the Hidden Valley. Trees of various colors and fragrances overhung buildings of exquisite architecture. Flowers on twirling vines sprayed the air with their thick scents.

Strider smiled at both his companions, who were gaping at the sights. He remembered doing the exact same thing when he entered Imladris. They wound down the narrow pass, across the bridge, and into the courtyard of Rivendell. A tall, lordly, but somehow dark looking Elf descended the staircase in front of the principle building.

"Lord Elrond," Strider said respectively.

"Strider," Lord Elrond's voice sounded crisp and smooth, "what brings you to Imladris at this hour?"

"Troubling news; I am seeking for advice," Strider replied.

"Come, we will discuss it," Elrond droned. "Your friends may explore the gardens."

Strider nodded and waved Legolas and Baroth away as he ascended the staircase behind Lord Elrond. Two Elves approached and took their horses bridles and prepared to lead them to the stables.

"I'll see that the horses are taken care of," Baroth mumbled, as he moved away with their mounts.

"Okay…" Legolas said hesitantly.

The Elf Prince ambled off towards a captivating garden, breathing in the fresh smells of the exotic flowers. As he wove his way through the paved path, the sound of steel against steel rasping, clanging, twisting, and pulling apart again echoed among the trees. Rounding a bend produced the source of the racket to Legolas; two fair, but battle-worn, faced Elves and a small…human were sparring in some sort of open area in the garden. What was a human doing in Imladris? One of the dark-haired Elves was sparring with the human while the other leaned on a pillar, one hand resting on his sword and a smile lightening his features. Both the Elves were alike in face and expression, it seemed. Legolas remembered suddenly about the Elven twins of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian. But the human remained a mystery to the Elf Prince.

"Greetings!" Legolas called, stepping out from behind the tree where he was observing.

The Elf leaning against the pillar straightened hastily at the sight of an unknown Elf, his grip tightening around his sword hilt. The fighting Elf raised his sword slightly, whilst the human tried to emulate the former's stance.

"Who are you?" the sparring Elf asked.

"Legolas Greenleaf," the Elf Prince answered. "I am here with Strider."

"Strider?" the boy asked excitedly.

The resting Elf loosened his grip on his sword hilt and made a shushing motion at the human while the fighting Elf lowered his sword.

"I am Elladan," the sparring Elf said. "This is my brother Elrohir and my brother Estel."

Legolas' brow furrowed; how could this human be an Elf's brother?

"What brings you Rivendell, Master Greenleaf?" Elrohir asked.

"Questions," Legolas answered simply.

The human pushed past Elladan. "Did you say Strider is here?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes," Legolas smiled.

"May I go see him?" the boy questioned Elladan.

"Yes, but if he is busy with father do not bother him," Elladan warned.

"I will!" the boy ran off through the trees.

"So Master Greenleaf," Elrohir drawled, "care for a round?"

"A round?" Legolas asked, confused.

"With the sword, Master Greenleaf," Elladan chuckled. "My brother is the best around here with a sword."

"So will you or will you not?" Elrohir challenged.

Legolas paused. Orcs were not skilled masters of the blade, making them easy opponents, however fellow Elves. Not to mention that the sword was never his strongest point. His father always disarmed him within the first five minutes. But he couldn't deny a challenge, especially from a Rivendell Elf; they always acted high and mighty around his people. Of course he had had only met four Imladris Elves in his life, these two twins, Lord Elrond, and the snotty messenger that had come to the Woodland Realm years ago.

"Yes, I will," the Prince grinned.

"Good," Elrohir shouted, unsheathing his sword, a long piece of thin, strong metal, slightly curved at the end, enhanced with words from the Old Language, which Legolas could not read. Elladan tossed Legolas his sword, which felt smooth and light in his hand.

"Is that a good sword for you, Master Greenleaf?" Elladan questioned.

"Yes," Legolas answered, trying to discern the Quenya lettering.

"It says "May I protect you against your foes," Elladan informed.

"Ahh…" Legolas said.

"Ready?" Elrohir asked impatiently.

"When you are," Legolas smiled.

The two circled, flickering close to each other only to retreat and check for weaknesses again. Elladan sighed and watched the two eye each other, testing each other's strengths.

"Are you two just going to dance all day?" he taunted.

As if his words were a signal, the two blades crashed together the light steel rasping and singing as the blades moved in and out of each other. Five minutes later, Legolas had a suspicion that Elrohir was now playing with him, like a cat that is not ready to kill and devour the helpless mouse. Elrohir had a bemused look on his face as he twisted around Legolas skillfully. Suddenly, Elrohir did a flip over Legolas' head, and before the Elf Prince could react a firm kick sent him flying across the clearing. Groggily, Legolas rolled over only to find Elrohir's foot planted against his chest and his sword pointed at his neck.

"Game over," Elrohir smiled.

"I guess," Legolas moaned

"Up, Master Greenleaf," Elladan said, offering his hand.

"Thanks," Legolas mumbled as he accepted it.

Elladan pulled Legolas to his feet and looked as if he was going to say something, but the clattering of hooves and two urgent shouts distracted him. The trio moved out of the garden to see two Elven messengers on graceful horses dismounting and running up the staircase, past the waiting Estel, and into Elrond's private room.

"Their haste forebodes something," Elladan murmured, a frown forming in his brow.

"Aye," Elrohir agreed.

A few minutes later Lord Elrond, Strider, and the two messengers excited the room. Strider's face was contorted with worry and dread. His long stride aided him in descending the steps two or three at a time. Spotting Legolas, Strider made a quick gesture indicating that he wanted the Elf Prince closer.

"Where's Baroth?" Strider asked sharply.

"With the horses," Legolas notified." Why? What's wrong?"

Strider's jaw hardened, "orcs. Three battalions of them. They are headed towards the North Downs. They are going to attack my people. We need to get back. Quickly."

 **O.O Forget the Bloody Handed there are orcs abrode!**

 **Hope this chapter didn't get confusing :D**


	6. Chapter 4

**Thanks to Gracie and Neril for those excellent reviews. We shall see what happens to the Bloody Handed Gracie :D The twins are awesome Neril! We see more of who this Strider is in this chapter! Please leave reviews!**

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Chapter 4:

"What?" Legolas exclaimed.

"Yes, those orc bands in the South have formed and are marching towards the weakened Ranger bands; once they are crushed there will be no stopping them from invading all of Eriador and the Shire. Come, we have no time!"

Strider grabbed the reins of his horse, which had just been brought back by one of the messengers and Baroth. Estel put a hand on Strider's shoulder and the Ranger turned, his grim expression softening.

"I have to go now, Estel," Strider explained, "but I'll be back."

"Promise?" Estel asked, embracing the Ranger.

"I still have to teach you that sword trick," Strider replied lightheartedly, "so, yes I promise."

A woman emerged from the gathering crowd and laid her hands on Estel's shoulders, whispering something in his ear. He nodded and back up a little, allowing Strider to mount his horse.

Baroth and Legolas watched the tender scene from atop their own horses. Elladan and Elrohir had brought mounts of their own, and were now armed to the teeth in weapons of Elvish make. Lord Elrond had arranged for them to accompany the time-driven trio.

"Be safe, L…" the woman hesitated, realizing that she had almost said her adopted son's true name. "Strider," she finished, in respect to his wishes to be called thus.

"I will mother Gilraen," Strider promised.

"Come back to see us soon," Estel called.

"I will," Strider called.

"I want to be just like him when I grow up," Estel whispered to his mother.

Reluctantly, Strider turned his horse and galloped out of the fair haven of Rivendell, the others following behind. They crossed the path safely but hurriedly and were soon on the Great East road urging their horses into a canter.

"What was the poison?" Legolas asked, urging Railious to trot beside Strider's horse.

" _Oikata_ ," Strider answered. "The Strangler in Common Speech. Lord Elrond said it is quite rare and almost unheard of. We are not dealing with a common assassin."

Legolas asked no more, seeing the troubled look in his friend's eyes. But worry nagged at his heart and the wish to hurry on to North Downs became even more urgent. Days passed and they would alternate between walking, trotting, and galloping on the road. Signs of the foul orcs dotted the countryside: burned farmhouses, destroyed trees, and trampled ground marked their paths. One night, when they were resting the horses, Legolas approached Strider.

"Who were the two humans in Imladris?" the Elf Prince queried.

"My adopted mother Gilraen," Strider answered, "and…"

"And who?" Legolas pressed.

"You must never tell anyone," Strider said lowering his voice, "but it is Arathorn's rightful heir, Aragorn, descendent of Isildur, the last of a long line."

"Isildur's heir," Legolas breathed.

"Yes, but don't breathe a word of it to anyone," Strider warned.

"I won't," Legolas promised.

Baroth's eyes widened as he happened to overhear Strider and Legolas' conversation: the chieftain's heir in Rivendell? He should have guessed all the chieftain's sons were raised in Imladris. Aragorn had been right there in front of him! Shaking his head the silent Ranger moved on, as if he hadn't heard.

Two weeks later they arrived on the North Downs, and were shocked to find that they had actually outrun the orcs. After sending the villagers off to safe places in man-made caves with the help of a Ranger camp patrolling the area, Strider sent the Elven twins to search and gather the remaining patrols. Five days passed, and the patrols streamed into the North Downs. Strider took up command in the villages' black smithy, overseeing the making and sharpening of weapons. Legolas picked out a quiver full of longbow arrows and tucked them into his own quiver. Sharpening his knives carefully, he placed them gingerly in their sheaths. He had fought one battle, only to find himself in another. Stepping out into the cool air, he smiled as he recognized the patrol struggling up the hill. Racing down he found Captain Jarrod's old patrol with Elladan leading the scraggly men; Glen waved from the front row. As soon as Mikel dismissed the company to ready for the coming battle, Glen hurried over to Legolas.

"Did I miss anything?" Legolas asked.

"No, just Captain Mikel trying to fill Captain Jarrod's shoes by barking orders at us," Glen grinned. "How was your trip?"

"Wonderful," Legolas sighed, "Rivendell…is…unexplainable! You would have to go there to know what I mean!"

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time," Glen smiled.

Their conversation was interrupted by a brutish horn blowing in the distance. Fright clouded Glen's eyes as he and Legolas raced back up the hill. Then Rangers had sprung into action; swords were being sheathed and orders were being shouted and confusion reigned for a few minutes before Strider appeared.

"Archers on the Left Flank!" he shouted above the chaos. "Spearmen on the Right Flank! Foot Soldiers with me! Calvary right behind the Foot Soldiers!"

Action followed their leader's words; Legolas found himself with the archers along with Elladan, who was stringing his bow. The orc hordes blackened the plains as they halted a little out of bow range.

"Where is Elrohir?" Strider muttered, glaring at his enemies.

The orc horn sounded again and this time the Rangers were organized and fully prepared as a square of orcs started towards them.

"Arrows ready!" Elladan called, as the orcs came into range.

Legolas grabbed and arrow and fitted it to his bow string expertly.

"Aim!"

The Elf Prince sighted down his arrow, choosing a fine, fat orc to destroy.

"Fire!"

Arrows hissed as they were released and dozens of orcs fell, including Legolas' fat orc. Elladan, seeing the extent of the damage, ordered two more rounds of arrows before he feared they would hit their own men with friendly fire.

Strider raised his sword and plunged it into the first orc's neck. The creature fell with a writhing and screeching as Strider pulled out his sword and decapitated another orc.

Elrohir urged his horse forward as the three patrols he had found in the west, hoping against hope that he would be on time.

"Come on!" he shouted at the patrols.

Glen glanced up; another square of orcs were marching across the plain towards them. The fight was heavy and things were not looking good for the Rangers. The archers were ordered to fire on will until Strider commanded them to come down into the fight. Legolas used his bow for a while before switching to his knives due to the dwindling amount of arrows in his quiver. His knives were soon stained with black blood. Orc screeches filled his air and the horn blew again and again and still the orcs poured down to replace the dead ones. It reminded him of the battle he had gone through five months ago.

Strider wiped the sweat off his brow in-between parries. Wearily, he swung at the next orc, dispatching another with a throwing knife. Where was Elrohir?

* * *

Elrohir could hear the sounds of battle in the distance and the rising of smoke urged him on. He motioned to the patrols as they broke into a gallop. Tiriel, his white mare, lowered her ears and charged ahead of the shaggy horses of the patrols.

Strider watched, horrified, as his men fell one by one to orc blades. On his right Elladan was fighting furiously despite the blood running down his cheek. On his left, Legolas' knives were a blur of white and steel making it look like the Elf Prince had six hands and six knives. Mikel was fighting for his life ahead and Strider made an effort to fight over to the young Captain. Strider stood shocked as the dark blade of the orc plunged into Mikel's chest, the young Captain's red blood spilling over his chest, death stealing away the life in his eyes. Strider yelled and ran towards Mikel, slashing his way through the orcs. The horn sounded again and Strider stared his dying men. Reluctantly he looked down, preparing to call a retreat.

* * *

"Strider needs help!" Elrohir shouted as they charged into full view of the valley.

The Elf beheld the gruesome battlefield. Blood now stained the once green field. The screams of the dying and wounded pierced the patrol's ears and they raised a shout of defiance, charging into the battle. The fresh men drove into the orc squares, breaking them up into total defeat. Strider cheered as the orcs turned to flee. Raising his sword, he started to take off after the retreating enemy. Out of nowhere a new square of orcs formed and began forcing Elladan and Legolas away from Strider. The Ranger fought three orcs that were now pushing him back away from his army. He dispatched one with a swift sword thrust, another he decapitated, and the other fell snarling at his feet with a knife in his chest. After dispatching the last surviving orc Strider moved to climb over the orcs and rejoin his men. Shock filled Strider's face as cold steel plunged into his side. He grimaced, pain throbbing in his side as red blood ran down his leg. The knife was ripped out of his side and Strider groaned as he fell to his knees, his face contorting with pain. A laugh rung in his ears as the killer moved into sight. Strider clenched his wound, gritting his teeth sucking in precious breath. The killer was no orc, but a man, tall, wrapped in a green cloak, and carrying a knife dripping red blood. Strider looked up and surprise filled his face. Coughing he grimaced again as thick blood poured down his leg.

"Glen?" he choked, Strider's voice filled with betrayal.

* * *

 **O.O GLEN HOW COULD YOU?! Review please :D :D :D**


	7. Chapter 5

"Yes," Glen chuckled, "though most people prefer to call me Bloody Handed."

"Why?" Strider coughed.

"Because someone paid me 50 extra gold coins to take you out," Glen explained.

Legolas looked up to see a hooded and cloaked figure standing over Strider, who was kneeling awkwardly on the ground. Quickly, Legolas cut through the orcs standing in his way and raced up the hill. Strider's racked breaths shook in his chest as he watched Glen pace before him. The knife twitched in the murderer's hand before plunging towards Strider's chest.

Legolas' eyes widened as he saw the blade descending, aimed the Ranger's chest. Yelling, desperately he doubled his speed.

Strider remained motionless, staring at the blade plummeting toward his chest. At the last moment he jerked away, but not enough to avoid the blade. It buried deep into his shoulder, Strider bit back a cry as the blade snapped against his shoulder bone. Glen cursed and pulled his hilt away, throwing it to the ground. Pulling out his sword, Glen laughed.

"Don't make this harder," he warned. "It just delays your slow death!"

He spun around at the sound of a bowstring and whirled his sword to slice the fast approaching arrow. Legolas gasped as the killer turned around.

"Glen?" the Elf Prince asked. "But…it can't be!"

"Ah, but it is, Elf Prince! Did you ever really believe that I was a good natured Ranger who received love letters from a pretty girl?" Glen teased.

"But you killed Captain Jarrod!" Legolas exclaimed.

"Among many others," Glen informed sadistically.

"You drugged yourself so that we wouldn't know it was you," Legolas gasped, fitting together the pieces. "It was all a lie, from the very beginning!"

"That is my profession," Glen smiled, taking a step away from Strider, "lying."

Legolas drew his last arrow and shot it at Glen, who only cut it in half again. Taking his knives, the Elf Prince stepped forward to meet the murderer. Glen swung his sword expertly, parrying Legolas' knives with quick blocks and subtly took over the offensive. Legolas bit his lip as Glen's sword slid down his unprotected leg, slicing the flesh open, letting his hot blood run down onto the ground.

"You're not bad, Elf Prince," Glen commented, "not bad at all."

Legolas grunted as Glen started to move him backwards, pressing his advantage with the Elf's bad leg. The pain was tore away at Legolas' focus and it was harder to think, but he tried to keep his mind on the murderer he had once called friend. Glen did a series of overcuts before taking the flat of his blade and swiping it expertly under Legolas' legs, causing the Elf to fall. Legolas tried to jump back up but Glen swiftly placed a foot on the Elf Prince's gashed leg. The Elf grimaced but his eyes enlarged as he noticed Glen's sword rushing down into his shoulder. Legolas yelled as the steel rushed into his flesh, tearing apart sinews and severing veins. Blood gushed everywhere as Glen jerked his sword out and raised it to plunge it into Legolas' neck.

"You got in the way, Elf Prince," Glen droned. "This is what happens when you get in the way of the Bloody Handed!"

Legolas stared defiantly at Glen, not letting the pain show through, but his eyes revealed all. Suddenly, there was a yell from behind and Glen was tackled to the ground by Baroth. They rolled several paces before Baroth gained the upper hand and raised a dagger to kill Glen. But the Bloody Handed was quicker. Glen slipped his own hidden knife into Baroth's stomach. His face contorted with pain, Baroth fought against the overwhelming pain and thrust the dagger into Glen's throat before the murderer could roll away. Glen struggled, placing a hand on the dagger and spewing black blood from his mouth. He kicked several times hissing unintelligible curses in the Black Speech before going still.

Legolas crawled over to the quiet Ranger who had saved his life. Consciousness was slipping away from Baroth as he struggled for breath.

"Maybe," Baroth gasped, "my father will love me better…dead"

With those words, Baroth fainted from lack of blood. A Healer knelt by Baroth's side and extracted the dagger and quickly bound the quiet Ranger's middle. Remembering Strider, Legolas half crawled, half walked to the mortally wounded chief, who had fallen face first into the dirt. Legolas rolled him over to find that Strider's eyes were closed and for a half moment Legolas wondered if he was too late, but the Ranger's eyes flickered open.

"Elf Prince," he moaned. "I'm dying…"

"Strider, you're going to be okay the Healers are here!" Legolas interrupted, "Stay with me; Strider!"

"It's Liam," Strider whispered, waving the Healer's away weakly. "My…name is…Liam."

Legolas smiled painfully, tears forming in his eyes. "Thank you."

Blood trickled down the corner of Liam's mouth and his breaths came in ragged gasps. Dark clots of blood oozed around the broken blade and even more blood ran in streams down Liam's side. Legolas looked helplessly around for the almost non-existent Healers, his own physical pain seemed far away compared to the pain in his heart.

"Legolas," Liam panted, "promise me…promise me…that you will look after Estel for me…"

"I will," Legolas vowed, "I will."

"He needs someone…so badly…I can't be there for him now," Liam coughed. "Look after him…"

"I'll be there for him," Legolas choked.

"Keep up hope, Elf Prince," Liam whispered.

Liam sighed and his last breath shuddered through his whole body before escaping, fleeing with the Ranger's life to Mandos' Halls. Liam's eyes went cold and unseeing and Legolas shuddered. The pain returned to him. His shoulder throbbed and tears skimmed down his cheeks as he lowered his friend's head to the ground. The Elf's leg had crusty blood forming over the still-bleeding gash that had stained the grass red along with Liam's blood. Feeling light headed, Legolas tried to stand up, but collapsed on the ground. Darkness overtook the Elf Prince as he drifted into black and troubling dreams.


	8. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Legolas pulled Railious to a halt in front of the grand staircase of Rivendell. The twins leapt noiselessly off their horses and ascended the stairs to report to their father, as the Elf Prince asked for Gilraen and Estel. He waited patiently as the Elf ran off to find the two, his mind flashbacked to the previous weeks.

He had woken in a makeshift bed, among many other wounded. The pain in his heart throbbed more than his aching shoulder and leg. Liam was gone, the aftermath of his death reverberated through the patrols like a painful wave swallowing up hope. Baroth had survived, but barely, the Healers said that he had tried to die, slipping almost into the Halls. Nevertheless they had revived him, but the unholy light of hopelessness shone in the young Ranger's eyes. Liam had been buried with honor, his dagger now stuck proudly from the head of his grave. Due to Legolas' information about the Bloody Handed killing Strider, Glen's body was thrown into a pit with the orc bodies. The elven twins had stayed to help with the massive cleanup and the healing of those injured.

Now Legolas was back in Rivendell, two months later, with horrific news for two humans. Hurried footsteps caught his attention, and reaching with his good arm grabbed a bundle off his saddle. Gilraen, her hair pulled back into a neat braid, was running behind her son, Estel, whose face showed hopeful excitement. They stopped when they saw the Elf prince, one arm hanging in a sling with a thick bandage over his shoulder and an evident limp.

"The battle…" Gilraen asked fearfully, seeing Legolas alone, "…Strider?"

Every step, every breath he took as the Elf drew closer was pure torture. He handed the bundle to Estel, who unwrapped it slowly, revealing the cleaned and nicked blade of Liam. Gilraen's hand flew to her mouth as tears started to run down her cheeks and a stifled sob escaped her lips. Estel stared in horror at the sword; his hands dropped the weapon as if it was hot metal before he ran off into the gardens. Gilraen started to run after him but Legolas held his hand up and limped after the young boy. Catching a fleeting glance of Estel running into a lone building, Legolas hurried after him. Searching the lower floor he found nothing, so the Elf Prince ascended a winding staircase. Beautiful portraits lined the walls of ancient days but Legolas ignored these as he heard sniffles and small sobs coming from underneath a statue. Estel was curled up in the shadows underneath the statue's outstretched arms, wiping his face periodically. Legolas bent down awkwardly and sat with Estel rubbing the young man's shoulder.

"He was going to show me that new sword trick," Estel cried, "and take me hunting once I mastered the bow…and show me where the best fish can be caught. And when Ada would let me leave here he said he would show me his home…how to be a Ranger."

Legolas let Estel cry his sorrow out feeling tears of his own brimming in his eyes. Finally the boy stopped, rubbing the moisture out of his red eyes.

"You know," Legolas said slowly, "I could teach you some tricks with a bow if you want…"

"You can?" Estel asked, raising his head.

"Yes," Legolas smiled.

"Right now?" Estel queried.

"No, later, my arm needs to heal first," Legolas informed, "and your mother needs a big hug from you."

"Okay," Estel said softly, getting up and wiping the last of his tears away.

Legolas smiled as the young human as he ran off down the stairs. He had seen something shining in the boy's eyes, the very thing that had attributed to the human's name, hope.

* * *

 **Well guys *sniffs and wipes away a tear* last chapter! R &R?**


	9. Epilogue

A clean shaven young man took the sword off his desk, fingering its worn leather sheath. He had carried it with him since the day he could lift it. Buckling it securely to his belt along with a small satchel of coins and a dagger he flopped on his bed staring at the famous wooden ceilings of Rivendell. A knock on the door interrupted his dreams and he sat up almost unwillingly.

"Come in," he groaned.

Legolas stepped in shutting the door behind him. He sighed as he glanced at Estel's belongings, packed and ready to go.

"So you are leaving," Legolas stated.

"Yes," Estel muttered, grabbing up his food bag.

"So, Lord Elrond is letting you go?" Legolas queried.

"He is," Estel sighed, searching for his clothing bag.

"Where are you going?" Legolas asked.

"North, I think," Estel answered.

"At least let me go with you," the Elf Prince demanded.

"I'm going to join the Rangers," Estel said shortly, "you probably don't want to go."

"I do," Legolas persisted. "Have you picked an alias yet? Or will you just go as Estel?"

"Yes, I have picked an alias" Estel breathed, "its Strider."

Legolas froze, memories flooded back to him and a sad smile filled his face as he pulled Estel into a manly hug.

"It is a good name."

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 **You Guys deserve this last bit! thanks for reading!**


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